


It Matters How This Ends

by jane_x80



Series: All I Ask [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Break Up, Established Relationship, Heartbreak, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5543567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_x80/pseuds/jane_x80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Gibbs' cold, wordless response to Tony's question "Do we need to talk" at the end of Stop The Bleeding (S13 E1), Tony realizes that after two years, their relationship is no longer sustainable, and that Gibbs does not respect him in or out of work. Tony needs to get out before he loses even more of himself. Will Gibbs realize what's going on before it is too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Matters How This Ends

**Author's Note:**

> I know that I should be writing the happy smutty part of Unlovable, but I blame my husband for getting me the new Adele CD for Christmas because I am now obsessed with her song [All I Ask](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ff4UCoRuNJA) (click on the link and give it a listen). Which is a song about the end of a relationship. And so not where I want to go with Unlovable. So this little story came about. Please note that the song that Tony sings is All I Ask by Adele. It's gorgeous and heartbreaking.
> 
> And now, hopefully I can turn my attention back to Unlovable. :) If you have suggestions for happy songs that I can obsess about to help get me in the right frame of mind, let me know!

He sits down behind his desk, his mind whirling. He hasn’t felt so cut to pieces since coming to work all those years ago to find his things dumped unceremoniously back at his ‘old’ desk, and Gibbs sitting at his desk, apparently back from his retirement. No call, no apologies, no ‘good job DiNozzo’, god forbid, no fucking thank you for keeping his fucking team together.

He cannot believe that after all these years, that that particular memory is still as hurtful as if it happened the day before.

Tony sits at his desk, concentrating on breathing in and out. In and out. Focus on something he can do. Or can he? The feeling of breathlessness, of suffocation, suddenly strong again.

His words keep echoing through his mind: “Do we need to talk?”

And the cutting look, wordless response, the icy disdain in those blue eyes. Surprisingly, Tony realizes that his eyes are hot with tears. After fifteen years of a professional partnership, and two years of actually being lovers, Gibbs’ response to his impassioned plea, his coldness towards him stung. More than he had thought possible.

Maybe because they had taken that step, become lovers, had exchanged words of love, had started seeing each other exclusively, that made this so unbearable. Yes, Tony thinks, this is definitely worse than the time Gibbs came back from his retirement in Mexico. Because back then, he had had Swiss cheese brains, and at that time, they were only partners at work, and not partners outside of work too.

Tony works the rest of the day on autopilot, unable to focus on anything other than the look in Gibbs’ eyes, a tacit answer to his question, perhaps finally a reason for him to break free of the spell that the blue-eyed man has woven on him all these years.

Ever since Gibbs had been shot in Iraq, everything got worse. It wasn’t even like the hunt for Ari all over again, since Tony was the one running around like a man obsessed. This time it was sanctioned – he had been under orders to find and stop Daniel Budd. And now that he has done it, it looks like Gibbs of all people is going to punish him. But it is only one more step, it wasn’t like before the shooting it had been roses and champagne either. Tony realizes that he hasn’t been happy in a long time.

Finally the day ends and Tony escapes. For the first time in two years, that night he does not go to Gibbs’ house, and neither does he call to let him know he will be staying at his own apartment. Since Gibbs had taken him to his bed, Tony has not once ever not let him know where he is and when he will return. 

Even during the worldwide hunt for Budd, he dutifully called to let Gibbs know where he is and that he is OK.

But not tonight. Tonight he sits in the dark, drinking scotch (not bourbon, not tonight), and thinking dark thoughts. In the morning when he is trying to shower his hangover away, he realizes that Gibbs had not called him either.

That realization causes his knees to suddenly lose the ability to hold his weight. He slides down in the shower, curls himself up into a ball, feeling like his heart is in a vise grip.

And suddenly, it begins. Tony begins tallying things up in his head. Number of times he has called Gibbs versus the number of times Gibbs has called him. Number of nights spent at Gibbs’ house versus number of nights spent at his apartment. Number of times he has verbally expressed his love for Gibbs versus the number of times Gibbs has used the L word on him. The number of times Tony has wanted to tell the world they are together versus the number of times Gibbs talks him out of this, as if he is a dirty little secret. The number of times Tony slips his hand into Gibbs versus the number of times Gibbs initiates hand-holding.

And a dozen other little things, what should have been meaningless things (really, like does it matter that he always refills Gibbs’ coffee when he gets up, and Gibbs perhaps refills his only once every three times or so? Who thinks like that anyway?)

But it does sting.

Tony does not like what he sees. He knows that he has always been needy, and especially needy of Gibbs’ attention. This is nothing new to anyone who has ever been around him in the last fifteen years. Before they started being lovers, they had been superior and subordinate. But Gibbs had promised him equality when they first kissed, and Tony had been the one to shy away from a relationship because Gibbs is his boss. The conversation they’d had then had been so simple and so straightforward.

“I can’t just be your lackey at home and at work, Jethro,” Tony'd said, two years ago. “I don’t think us being in a relationship is at all wise.”

“Why? Why would you be my lackey at home?”

“Are you being deliberately obtuse? I have a tendency to do whatever the fuck you tell me to do. Haven’t you noticed that?”

“You’re not doing what I’m telling you to do now, are you?”

“Don’t make light of this. I’m serious.”

And Gibbs had seen how serious Tony’s green eyes had been.

“I’ve been in love with you for so long. I’ve thought about this and wanted this for so long, and done the pros and cons about this so many times, without you ever knowing any of my feelings. The biggest con is always: you will dominate my life outside of work and suddenly I won’t be important anymore and I’ll just be an afterthought and someone to pick up your dry cleaning or cook your dinner. And I won’t be an equal partner, as I deserve to be. Not just with you, but with whoever I might choose to spend my life with. That has been the biggest concern that I have had all these years, about you and me ever going from the harmless flirting and banter to something more serious. One day you will look at me and think, why am I with this dickhead who can’t even stand up for himself? How can I respect him? How can I even think I can be with someone like him?” Tony’s tone is bleak. “Don’t you think I deserve more than that in my life? More than you looking at me like I’m some weak asshole after I’ve given you everything that you want, including my own self-respect?”

Gibbs had sat there, looked at him, held his hand and given serious thought to what he had said. He had nodded, and those blue eyes of his had been sympathetic and earnest. He had promised, not to allow Tony’s natural tendency to let Gibbs dominate him allow him to take advantage of the younger man. He had promised equality. He had promised openness. He had promised his heart and his love. He had promised that he would understand the times when Tony needed him to back off, to let him have his way once in a while. He had promised to be the one to love him, and to help him be less insecure and needy, to provide him with unconditional love and attention. He had promised him the world.

Two years later, huddled on the floor of the shower, the water beating down on him cooling slowly, Tony gives in to his tears. There’s no equality. There’s what Gibbs wants, and there’s Tony doing what Gibbs wants. And he had been happy, it hadn’t been a problem. And now, it is. Tony has become Gibbs’ whipping boy at work and at home, and all Gibbs feels for him and his opinions now is disdain.

As well he should, Tony thinks. Who can respect a supposed partner who pretends he doesn’t have an opinion about whether they should buy smooth or chunky peanut butter – smooth always, of course, but when Gibbs wanted chunky he had bought chunky. And Gibbs never even noticed that Tony stopped eating peanut butter sandwiches because he really can’t stand chunks of peanut in his peanut butter.

Fuck! Suddenly there are so many other things that showed Tony what a fucking idiot he has been. Gibbs doesn’t love him. Gibbs doesn’t want to talk to him. All he is is a convenient warm body, and one that he won’t even need to pay alimony to when things are over. Nobody even knows that they are together and it’s been two years. Tony realizes with a shock that he is Gibbs’ fucking mistress.

The gall of him, a lowly mistress, actually asking Gibbs if they needed to talk! No wonder the disdain.

Tony wills his tears away and dries his eyes. He forces himself to his feet and finishes his shower in now-cold water. He dresses carefully – instead of wearing a suit and tie which will tell Gibbs that he is upset, he decides to go with business casual. And he looks at his shirts, unable to decide whether he should choose a shirt that Gibbs likes or one that he hates, wondering what if any, the message would be in his choice of shirts. In the end, he chooses a shirt that he, Tony, likes. Dark purple. Comfortable dark denims – still abiding by NCIS dress code. And he decides on a leather jacket. Gibbs does not like him to wear leather to work. Well fuck him. Or better yet, don’t fuck him. Leather jacket it is.

He buries himself in work and his usual mask. He knows that he has fooled Bishop and McGee with his act, and he has steadfastly ignored Gibbs’ looks – he has felt those cold blue eyes on him a few times today, but unlike other times when he would have looked up and given him a reassuring grin or a questioning look, he pretends like he didn’t notice it.

That evening, as he is sitting on his sofa, nursing a beer, Gibbs calls him.

“You coming over tonight?” Gibbs is his usual direct self.

For some reason, Tony is unprepared for this conversation. He had convinced himself that Gibbs would just let him go and realize that Tony now knows his place and that he cannot live with it being his place.

“Um, I wasn’t sure you wanted me to,” he finds himself saying. _No no no! Tell him no, you ass! Just tell him the fucking truth for once!_ But his traitorous tongue refuses to listen to reason.

“I want you,” Gibbs says huskily.

Tony closes his eyes. This is what it boils down to. Gibbs wants Tony. And what Gibbs wants, Gibbs gets.

“I’ll be there in a half hour.”

Even as Tony throws his full beer bottle in the sink with so much force that the bottle practically explodes, beer splashing his pristine kitchen, and the only thing he feels is a deep self-loathing, still he brushes his teeth, fixes his hair, and puts on a shirt that he knows Gibbs likes before he leaves.

And when he finds himself on his knees, worshiping Gibbs’ cock, moaning in pleasure at his taste, at the feel of the thick cockhead brushing the back of his throat, at the sinfully delicious noises that Gibbs is making, and when Gibbs is deep inside him, and he is moaning and writhing in pleasure, even as he is brought to orgasm by Gibbs’ talented mouth, hands and dick, everything is now tainted with a bitterness that he has never thought he would ever associate with Gibbs.

After the older man falls asleep sprawled on top of him, Tony carefully eases from under him, covering him tenderly with the blanket (Stupid! Stupid tenderness!), he grabs his clothes, runs downstairs and quickly pulls his pants on, and shrugs his shirt on, not bothering to zip his pants up or button up his shirt. He gets his car keys and drives away without even stopping to put his shoes on. He finds himself walking into his apartment at 0300, shoes in his hand, like he is some college frat boy sneaking out of a sorority after hours.

He showers, then sits at the piano and finds himself playing sad songs. Songs of heartbreak. And he realizes what that feeling was, that grip on his heart. It is his heart breaking with the realization that it is over. It is over between them. It doesn’t matter that he loves Gibbs or even if (and yes, that is a big if) Gibbs loves him. He cannot live like this anymore, completely at someone’s whims. Even he has more self-respect than to allow this to continue now that he realizes what is happening.

Tony gets off the piano and gets online. He begins looking for job postings, somewhere far from DC. Staying is no longer an option. And the only way to fully free himself from this horrible feeling, of the worthlessness of his own opinions, and actions, is to completely leave Gibbs’ sphere of influence. Staying on the MCRT is out of the question, staying in DC impossible, even staying at NCIS is questionable. So Tony starts to look for other options.

He looks around his apartment – fifteen years in one place and he has accumulated far too much stuff. He can no longer leave at a moment’s notice, but that should not be a reason not to go. If nothing else, fifteen years at NCIS will at least look very good on his resume, and fifteen years with Gibbs, much of that as his Senior Field Agent, will definitely open doors for him.

Tony’s heart feels both lighter and heavier – lighter because now he has a plan of action, one that will help dig him out of this rut, of feeling like he doesn’t matter not even to himself, and heavier because even through all of this his love for Gibbs is unaffected, he still loves the man more than he loves himself. He realizes the futility of it all – loving someone so fiercely, so deeply, that he has given his entire self up for him. And he cannot help but be angry that Gibbs has not lived up to his promises. Not his fault entirely, of course, Tony is the one who gave up control, who gave up trying to be Gibbs’ equal and partner outside of work. But Gibbs promised that he would remember Tony’s tendencies, and to help him stop it. And he didn’t.

For the next week, Tony explores his options, all done in the middle of the night after he leaves Gibbs’ bed – he cannot give Gibbs up just yet, but the one night he stayed until morning, his disgust for himself and his own weakness is so strong he is nauseous all day – so now every night he leaves after Gibbs falls asleep. And his heart breaks further when Gibbs does not even ask him any questions about this new habit.

McGee and Bishop are beginning to notice things at work – of course the not sleeping much for a week would give him bags under his eyes, and makes him irritable instead of sunny. They are also beginning to notice that he hasn’t been eating either. Bishop has started leaving candy bars and bags of chips on his desk, and bringing him breakfast and lunch even when he hasn’t asked for anything. And McGee has just come right out and asked him what was wrong.

Tony will miss them so much. But he cannot stay. He knows this.

During the Luis Mitchell case, when Gibbs forces him to act, and they catch the bad guy, and Gibbs still does not want to talk to him, Tony realizes that his decision to leave is the right one. When he drops by Gibbs’ house to give him the garment bag and Gibbs flippantly says to him, “You’re not coming with me,” he feels his heart drop to his stomach.

The final nail in the coffin.

Tony decides it is time to pull the trigger.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In LA, after Gibbs helps Luis scatter his father’s ashes, and he goes to his old house and has a good trip, remembering Shannon and Kelly, he sits on a bench looking at the Pacific. Remembering fishing with his daughter. Remembering everything. Holding the good memories close, rather than shying away from it. Instead of shying away from the pain of remembering, he embraces it.

It is cathartic. And suddenly he wishes that Tony had come, that he would have liked to share all these memories with the man that he loves.

When his phone rings, he assumes that it is Tony, since they haven’t spoken in two days. Tony has a knack, anyway, of calling him when he needs to hear the younger man’s voice.

“Gibbs,” without looking at his phone he answers, smiling, knowing that Tony will hear the smile in his voice and know that it is for him.

“Gibbs, why the hell didn’t you tell me DiNutzo is looking to join the FBI?”

“Tobias?”

“Who did you think this is, the tooth fairy? Where the fuck are you?”

“California.”

“Why wouldn’t you let DiNutzo come work for me, but you’re gonna let him go be the Assistant Director of the San Diego FBI field office? Are you moving to California too? That why you’re out there?”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Fornell?” Gibbs’ confusion is evident.

Fornell sighs. “You thickheaded idiot. DiNutzo is looking at a position in San Diego. With the FBI. Surely he would have told you?”

Gibbs laughs. “No way Tony would think about becoming FBI,” he scoffs. “You’re delusional, Tobias. Someone is pranking you.”

“I kid you not, this is not a prank. Fucking Director Wallace himself just spoke to me. Your boy was just here for a job interview and Wallace is fucking ecstatic and is going to offer him twice his current salary if DiNutzo even thinks about saying yes to the job.”

Gibbs frowns. “Wallace himself spoke to Tony?”

“Tony just left. I saw him leave. With my own two eyes.”

“What did you tell Wallace?”

“The truth, what else?”

“What’s that?”

“That I’ve been trying to hire him away from you for years, but he’s resisted for some reason.”

“You’ve been trying to hire Tony away from me for years, Tobias?”

Fornell sighs. “Standing job offer, remember?”

“You weren’t kidding?”

“Have you met your boy? He’s so good at his job, people even forget he’s doing it while he’s doing it. That’s his talent. You used to know this.”

“I do know it.”

“Well, I don’t know what the hell is going on with you two but I suggest you talk to him and soon, or he’ll be moving to San Diego without you next month.”

Fornell ends the call and Gibbs sits on the bench for a while longer, unable to believe his ears. Why would Tony be looking for a job? And one so far away from DC? What the hell is going on?

Gibbs calls Vance to see if he knows what is going on.

“Gibbs, how is California?”

“Leon, did you know DiNozzo interviewed for a job at the FBI today?”

Vance sighs. “I found out when Wallace called to ask me what I thought of him just a few minutes ago.”

“What the hell? Did you tell him that Tony is mine?”

“I gave him the most glowing reference that I could, Gibbs. I’m not going to lie to Wallace. Tony should have been Team Lead years ago, and you know it.”

“Fuck!”

“I take it you didn’t know he was looking to leave?”

Gibbs’ silence is answer enough. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” Gibbs finally tells Vance before he ends the call.

He goes back to his hotel room and begins packing. He calls Abby and asks her to change his flight home. While he drives to the airport, he realizes that he hasn’t spoken to Tony the entire time he has been in California. Tony hasn’t called him.

And a small voice, one that sounds suspiciously like Kelly’s, tells him that he has not called Tony either. And that the phone works both ways.

Immediately he calls Tony.

“Can’t talk now, Boss. Call back later,” Tony hisses urgently before yelling, “NCIS! Federal Agents! Show me your hands!!”

Gibbs hangs up. While waiting at the airport, he tries Tony three more times and all three times it goes straight to voicemail. There are many reasons why Tony cannot answer his phone, he tells himself. He could be arresting someone. He could be in Interrogation. He could be in a tunnel. He could have dropped or damaged his phone. He could be taking a nap. He could have been shot and is in the hospital. He could already be in San Diego, checking out his new office.

By the time he boards his plane, he is so anxious that he cannot sleep on the plane even though he is known for being able to sleep anywhere.

He arrives at Dulles just after midnight and drives home as fast as he can. When he is away, Tony usually sleeps in his house, in his bed, because he misses him and likes being surrounded by his smell. So he goes straight home, expecting Tony to be sleeping in his bed. But when he gets home, the house is dark and empty. He throws his duffel in his closet and realizes that Tony’s suits are no longer hanging in his half of the closet. Frantically, he opens all the drawers and looks in the bathroom. None of Tony’s clothes and toiletries are where they have been for over a year. He looks on his bed and sees that Tony has left him the OSU hoodie that the older man has been wearing while working on the boat.

He tears through the house – no DVDs, no mess of books, no random bits of Tony’s gadgetry, nothing. It is as if Tony has never even been to his house.

He jumps in his car and drives to Tony’s apartment, suddenly panicking. Would he find the apartment empty as well? Would Tony already have gone, without even a goodbye?

He slips into Tony’s apartment using his key. The only light on is the one by the piano, and Tony is sitting there, playing and singing to himself. It strikes him hard that Tony hasn’t played for him in the longest time – and the quiet voice in his head whispers that he hasn’t made the time for Tony, letting him go off by himself to play piano instead of making the effort to be there with him. And the song that Tony sings pins him to the door, it is dripping with emotion. His heart clenches, he keeps forgetting what a beautiful voice Tony has, and it is never more beautiful when he is alone, expressing himself with no witnesses, no one to see his true emotions, to see what he would think are his weaknesses.

_I will leave my heart at the door_  
_I won't say a word_  
_They've all been said before, you know_  
_So why don't we just play pretend_  
_Like we're not scared of what is coming next_  
_Or scared of having nothing left_

_Look, don't get me wrong_  
_I know there is no tomorrow_  
_All I ask is_

_If this is my last night with you_  
_Hold me like I'm more than just a friend_  
_Give me a memory I can use_  
_Take me by the hand while we do what lovers do_  
_It matters how this ends_  
_Cause what if I never love again?_

_I don't need your honesty_  
_It's already in your eyes_  
_And I'm sure my eyes, they speak for me_  
_No one knows me like you do_  
_And since you're the only one that matters_  
_Tell me who do I run to?_

_Look, don't get me wrong_  
_I know there is no tomorrow_  
_All I ask is_

_If this is my last night with you_  
_Hold me like I'm more than just a friend_  
_Give me a memory I can use_  
_Take me by the hand while we do what lovers do_  
_It matters how this ends_  
_Cause what if I never love again?_

_Let this be our lesson in love_  
_Let this be the way we remember us_  
_I don't wanna be cruel or vicious_  
_And I ain't asking for forgiveness_  
_All I ask is_

_If this is my last night with you_  
_Hold me like I'm more than just a friend_  
_Give me a memory I can use_  
_Take me by the hand while we do what lovers do_  
_It matters how this ends_  
_Cause what if I never love again?_

“That is the saddest fucking song I’ve ever heard,” Gibbs says.

“Jesus!” Tony visibly jumps, whirling around and seeing Gibbs leaning against his front door. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Is this what this is? My last night with you?”

“It’s just a fucking song.”

“Am I supposed to hold you like you’re more than just a friend? So you can have a fucking memory of me?”

“You’re not even supposed to get home till tomorrow.”

“That’s a non-answer if I ever heard one.”

Tony sighs and sits back down on the piano bench, facing Gibbs this time. “Let me guess, the FBI gossip mill is even worse than ours?”

“Depends. Are you looking to leave NCIS?”

Tony looks away, those beautiful green eyes of his hooded.

“Are you looking to leave me?” Gibbs’ voice breaks.

Tony sighs and looks down. “I think I have to, Gibbs,” he says softly.

“What are you talking about? And you haven’t called me Gibbs outside of work in a long time.”

“I know,” Tony says. “But I think maybe I should go back to calling you Gibbs.”

Gibbs starts walking to the younger man, and he stands and begins backing away.

“Why?”

Tony keeps backing away until he is up against the wall. “You’re seriously asking me why?”

Gibbs finds himself standing in Tony’s space, crowding him up against the wall. “Don’t you love me anymore?”

Tony refuses to meet his gaze.

“Talk to me! Goddammit!”

“Why should I?” Tony’s voice is soft and tremulous.

“What?!”

“Why should I talk to you, when you don’t see a need to talk to me?”

Gibbs draws in a sharp breath. “Is this because of that day in the office when I didn’t answer you when you asked if we needed to talk?”

Tony finally looks at him, and the bleak sadness in his beautiful eyes rocks Gibbs to the core. “It’s only part of it, Gibbs. It’s one of the things.”

“I don’t see the need to talk that one time and you’re fucking leaving me? Going all the way to fucking San Diego? Why? Didn’t they have a fucking office in fucking Australia??”

Tony’s eyes get impossibly sadder. He bites his lips. “This is why I have to leave, Gibbs. You don’t care about me.”

“What do you mean I don’t care about you? I _love_ you, you fucking moron! I love you! I need you!”

“You didn’t even call me while you were in California.”

“Yes I did, you were on a bust.”

“No, that doesn’t count. You’d heard I was leaving and that’s why you called.”

For a moment Gibbs is silent, chest heaving, panting harshly. “What?” he says stupidly.

“You called because you wanted to yell at me for talking to the FBI.”

Tony is right, Gibbs thinks. He’d only called to find out why Tony had gone to an interview with FBI Director Wallace.

“Do you remember what you promised me, when I told you I was scared about getting into a real relationship with you?”

“What?”

“Do you remember?” Tony is insistent. “You promised me equality. You promised me you would help me not buckle under pressure and just be your whipping boy in and out of work. You remember?”

Gibbs nods. “I remember.”

“Do you even realize that I stopped trying to get what I want out of our relationship? Do you even know when that happened? Because I sure as hell don’t. But it happened.”

“What are you _talking_ about?”

“I’m talking about respect, Gibbs. You might love me, but you don’t respect me. And I’ve had enough,” Tony says quietly. “I can’t even look myself in the mirror anymore. I don’t even respect myself anymore.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I gave you too much of me, and you took it and you demanded more. And I kept giving you more. And now I’ve given you so much, I hate what’s left of me,” Tony’s words are soft, but every syllable like a bullet in Gibbs’ gut. “I love you too much, Gibbs, and that means I never say no to you. But you never say yes to me. It would be fine if I never said no to you, and you never said no back to me. It would be balanced. But this, what we have, it’s not balanced. At best, I’m your lackey. At worst, I’m your fucking mistress. All I’m good for is sex and making your life easy. At work and at home. A convenient hole for you to fuck and afterwards I bend over backwards to make your life easy.”

“Tony!”

“Tell me what I’m saying isn’t true.”

“It’s not true!”

“Be fucking honest, Jethro. You don’t respect me. You don’t look at me the way I deserve to be looked at. You don’t put my needs even a close second to yours, never mind above yours. And I always put you before me. Always.”

Tony puts his forehead against Gibbs’ and his hands on Gibbs’ face. “I love you much more than you love me, Jethro. And in the end, it matters. It matters to me and it should matter to you that I don’t recognize who I am when I’m with you.”

“No, Tony…”

“Think about it for a minute. Don’t just react. Think about it. It’s the least that you owe me.”

“Tony…”

Tony’s eyes brim with tears which he refuses to let fall. “I’ve cried enough tears for you, Jethro. If you ever loved me, you will think about what I’ve just said, and then you will let me go.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You looked at me with disdain, Gibbs. When I tried to talk to you, you looked at me as if my opinion didn’t matter. As if I didn’t matter. And I realized then, that I don’t matter to you, not in the important ways.”

“No, Tony…”

“Just think about it for a minute.” And Tony leans against the wall, eyes closed, hands still on Gibbs’ face. And Gibbs sees the weariness and pain in the younger man’s face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the hopelessness in the slouch of his usually squared shoulders.

And that little voice in his head, Kelly’s voice, whispers to him that Tony is right and that he has never put Tony’s needs above his own, and that he has not lived up to his promises. And even now, he wants to point the finger at Tony for not standing up to him and demanding to be seen and heard. Even though Tony made it clear that he should deserve to be seen and heard without demanding attention, because even though he puts on the front of the outgoing attention-seeking frat boy, inside he is a screwed up, abandoned little boy who does not know his own self-worth. And Gibbs had promised to help him, and to see the real him, and to help give him the security to be himself, to not need to ask for attention, to be able to receive it as is his right.

And Gibbs knew this going in, knows it now. That he does not deserve Tony’s love. That he has driven Tony to this extreme.

“Oh god,” Gibbs’ voice breaks, “I did this to you.”

Tony’s hands, gently caressing his cheeks, his neck, his hair. “I let you,” he says quietly, taking the blame. Again.

“I promised you…”

“I know,” Tony sighs. He pushes away from the wall, and slowly presses his lips to Gibbs’, a soft, tender kiss. A farewell kiss. With an anguished groan, Gibbs kisses him back, thrusting his tongue into Tony’s mouth, renewing his intimate knowledge of his beautiful mouth, and it turns into a desperate, needy, angry kiss. And he rips Tony’s shirt open, buttons flying everywhere, desperate to touch the golden skin, desperate to taste it. Tony helps him pull his own shirt off, and they set upon each other, fiercely savaging each other, unable to get enough of each other’s skin, kissing, licking, biting each other.

They end up on the floor, rolling around. Gibbs runs to the side table, retrieves the bottle of lube, kicks his shoes and pants off and pulls Tony’s jeans off him so hard that his blunt fingernails leave almost bloody tracks on Tony’s hips. Hungrily he takes Tony’s hard cock into his mouth, sucking hard, nipping with his teeth, and Tony’s fingers clenching his hair as he thrusts himself into Gibbs’ mouth, moaning and grunting, the sounds fanning Gibbs’ lust, making his cock weep with moisture.

He lubes his fingers and he pushes two fingers into Tony’s hole, and the younger man arches his back and growls in pain and pleasure, squeezing Gibbs’ fingers and pushing down into him, scooting himself backwards with the force of his movements.

He begins keening when Gibbs’ fingers curl and massages his prostate, needy whimpers and breathy moans, until he finally begs for Gibbs to fuck him.

Gibbs lubes himself up and takes a breath, looking into those beautiful green eyes, seeing the need in them. With a loud grunt he pushes himself deep into Tony’s body in one smooth thrust.

“Fuck!” Tony half screams, feeling the burn. He curls his legs around Gibbs’ waist, urging him to move. “Oh fuck! Fuck. Yes. More. Harder. Fuck me hard! Harder, goddammit!”

Gibbs begins thrusting hard, unable to control himself as Tony chants his name, his long fingers digging hard into Gibbs’ hips, pulling him in deeper with every thrust.

“Not gonna last, Tony,” Gibbs gasps.

Tony pulls his head down, kissing him so hard that their teeth clash together jarringly. He throws his head back, pulling away from the kiss, stiffening as his muscles contract and waves of pleasure smashes through his body. He cannot hold back the scream as he comes, spraying Gibbs’ chest and his own belly with a long, hot stream of come.

Gibbs continues to thrust, trying to last through the tremors shaking Tony’s body, but the pain/pleasure in Tony’s scream and his body squeezing him, hot and tight is too much – he thrusts a few more times and empties himself into Tony with a roar.

Finally, as they come back to themselves, Gibbs bangs his head on the bottom of the piano. They have managed to scoot themselves all the way under Tony’s baby grand.

Tony laughs when Gibbs swears and rubs his head.

“How very _The Piano _of us,” his voice is unsteady.__

“You were a little more vocal than that chick was though.”

“And I thought you were sleeping through that movie.”

The familiar banter tugs at Gibbs’ heart. He looks deep into Tony’s eyes. “Don’t do this, Tony,” he finds himself begging. “Please. Give me another chance. Please, Tony.”

Tony closes his eyes and swears under his breath.

"Please, don’t leave me. Let me prove myself to you. Let me be what you need me to be. Please. At least you have to let me try.”

Tony tries to move from under Gibbs but the older man keeps him pinned down.

“Please,” Gibbs’ says brokenly. “I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I’m begging you. Please.”

Tony’s breath hitches. “I can’t keep letting you hurt me, Gibbs. I deserve better. I don’t deserve to feel like I don’t matter.”

“You _do_ matter. I’m a fucking asshole, and I’m begging you. Please. I want to be the one to love you like you deserve. I want to fix this.”

Tony sighs. “Let me up, please Gibbs.”

“Please, you were calling me Jethro just a few minutes ago. Chanting my name.”

Tony thumps the back of his head hard on the floor, hating that his eyes are filling again. DiNozzos don’t fucking cry, and definitely not over the guy who breaks their hearts. DiNozzos don’t have hearts to break.

“Tony,” Gibbs whispers, covering his face with desperate kisses. “Please. Don’t let this be how we end. Fucking under the piano, me begging you for forgiveness, and for another chance. Please.”

“Jethro,” his name on Tony’s tongue, full of anguish.

“No, this is not how we end, Tony. Please.”

Tony keeps his eyes averted, trying to close his ears to Gibbs’ pain. He sighs. “I have to give Wallace an answer by Monday,” he finally says. “You have until then to convince me that you deserve another chance.”

Gibbs’ embrace is tight and warm, kissing every bit of skin that he can reach. He has always been more comfortable expressing himself physically than verbally. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Tony’s sigh is a half sob. “Go home, Gibbs. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“No, sweetheart. I’m starting now. I know you’ve been leaving my bed and running home for a couple of weeks now. And I know you’re not sleeping. Or eating. Have you eaten anything today?”

Tony shrugs.

“Come on,” Gibbs crawls out from under the piano and helps Tony up, reaching for a shirt to swipe the cum off himself and Tony.

“I’m really not hungry,” Tony says quietly.

“Just some soup or something. I know you have some of your awesome minestrone in the freezer, right?”

Gibbs coaxes the younger man into t-shirt, sweat pants, and warms up Tony’s homemade minestrone soup, forcing his pale lover to eat at least half of the helping before they get ready for bed. In bed, he holds Tony’s body close, rubbing soothing circles in the small of his back, petting Tony’s hair, rubbing his scalp in the way that Tony loves – trying not to scream at himself when he cannot remember the last time he rubbed Tony’s head, or has done anything that he knows Tony loves.

When Tony finally falls asleep, Gibbs sighs. Monday is only five days away. He has only been given a small reprieve. And he knows he cannot waste this chance, or he will lose Tony, and that will be unbearable. He knows he will not survive Tony leaving him. He will not want to. And now that they are in this place where Tony needs to leave in order to live, winning him back in these few days will be that much harder – if he does too much, Tony will see it as overcompensating and insincere, and if he does too little, then it’s too little too late. He will have to strike a delicate balance.

Echoes of the song Tony’d sung earlier keeps playing through his mind. No, he tells himself. This is not the last night, and this is not going to just be a memory.


End file.
